Paternal Traditions
by night animal
Summary: Loki and his four kids are getting ready for bed, and Loki decides to tell his offspring one of those quaint Midgard fairy tales...
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is a slightly edited version of the same story on Deviantart. I have not had this story beta-read, so any mistakes are mine. ;) Constructive criticism is valued!

 **Paternal Traditions part 1**

"Father, please tell us a story!" Sleipnir tilted his head and nuzzled Loki's shoulder with his muzzle.

"Yesss! Sssstory! With ratsssssss in it!" the big, greenish reptile hissed, flicking his tongue. Jormungandr loved anything to do with rats. He especially loved hunting them down and eating them, usually in a most messy manner. Hardly a manner suited for the son of a prince… Although it must be admitted that the castle and its surroundings had never been this free of rats before. The rodents tended to scurry away at the mere thought of the large snake creature, as did in fact most other castle inhabitants who had at some time or other had the dubious pleasure of being acquainted with Loki's scaly son. It may have had something to do with his breath. Or possibly the fact that he greeted practically everyone with a threatening hiss of the "I-am-going-to-swallow-you-whole-and-then-spit-you-out-all-covered-in-slime-" variety. Not many dared look him in the eye. Of course, not many dared look Fenris in the eye either – although that was for completely different reasons. Fenris was still a pup, and he had not quite gotten the hang of being a big, blood-thirsty wolf. If someone looked him in the eye, he took it as a challenge: a challenge to see who would first be able to wrestle the other to the floor and lick the opponent's face. As surprising as it may seem, not everyone is keen on having a huge, hairy wolf - who believes himself to be the Asgardian equivalent of a Golden Retriever - on top of them.

"It is late, and you young ones should already be sleeping," their father stated. His voice was soft and calm, but there was a tinge of fatigue in it. Not even the mighty Prince Loki was able to keep up with four rambunctious kids of differing species every day, without occasionally wanting to just melt into a sleepy puddle of goo somewhere. Oh, he had servants and nannies. They did not last long. It was even rumored that one of the more recent babysitters had actually been eaten by Fenris – although that was not the entire story by far. Actually, it had all just been a horrific mistake. The babysitter in question was in fact Tyr, a most ferocious warrior and something of a jackass. He had this marvelous idea, after having heard a Midgardian circus show described by Uncle Thor… Something about putting one's head into the mouth of a large, furry beast. It did not occur to the good Tyr that the Midgardian circus beasts the King told him about had been trained and thoroughly prepared for having the body parts of weird, bipedal creatures put in their mouths. It did not either, in fact, strike him that Fenris could be somewhat shocked when his noisy babysitter suddenly roared "Open wide!" and shoved his head into his oral cavity. The wolf pup was so shocked, in fact, that he closed his mouth… The chaos that ensued had been most traumatizing for everyone involved, even the God of Chaos himself. To this day, poor Fenris still had nightmares. And his father still had to keep assuring him that nobody was going to make him eat anything that disgusting ever again. (Tyr had never been a great fan of bathing, and Fenris was surprisingly sensitive when it came to cleanliness.)

However, the whole debacle did actually result in at least one positive thing: Tyr never again attempted to shove his head anywhere it did not belong. Furthermore, the teeth marks on and around his throat had to be properly cleaned, and the healers promptly decided to dump the whole man into a bath tub while they were at it. The mighty warrior's gurgling protests could be heard throughout the castle grounds, but the healers had been trained to deal with reluctant patients all of their lives. He left the Healing Chamber smelling (and possibly tasting) far better than he ever had before, a faint whiff of flowers stubbornly clinging to him. For a long time afterwards he was referred to as "The Fragrant Warrior" by some of his more humorous friends.

Loki's offspring were now all in their nursery, seated on the soft rug in front of the fireplace. The room had been furnished especially to accommodate the needs of its inhabitants. There was a large tree for Jormungandr to climb, and another one for his wolf brother to… er, sniff at. The four beds were large and soft, and the sheets magically washed every day. The large, green closet stood in a corner, containing all the necessary clothes – and some that were not strictly speaking necessary. There were plenty of jewel incrusted dogcollars that always made Fenris feel pretty, a kind of one-piece-suit for Jormungandr (for formal occasions), several gowns and suits in various shades of green, purple and black for Hela, and jewelled horse accessories for Sleipnir.

Hela had lovely purple drapers, decorated with skulls and skeletons, hanging around her bed. She had chosen them herself and was immensely proud of them. A huge book case ornated the wall beside her bed. Hela had always loved reading. Sleipnir had a stable-like corner of the room for his own - always filled with fresh hay, apples and water – but usually chose to sleep in a bed, just like the others. Being a horse with eight legs does not stop one from loving cushions, or from wanting to be like one's siblings. Sleipnir had one heck of a hard time getting up into his bed every evening, his legs getting tangled up in the sheets, but he insisted on sleeping there anyway. Nobody argued.

"Please, father, I want to hear about magic and dragons," Hela begged. Jormungandr immediately perked up.

"Yeessssssss! Draagonsssssssss!" he agreed, always willing to hear about his fellow reptiles. Their father sighed.

"Very well. I shall tell you one story, after which you shall all go to sleep – do not give me that puppy eyed look, Fenris, I get plenty of that from your Uncle every day. After I have tucked you in, you shall all remain in your beds for the night. Nobody, and I mean _nobody_ , is going to sneak up in the middle of night to do _anything_. Do we understand each other, children?"

A slightly hang-dog chorus of "Yes, father" echoed in the nursery. Fenris tried the puppy-dog-eyes-treatment on his father again, and got a glare in return – followed by a quick smile. Loki was not the kind of person to wear his heart on his sleeve (or on any other part of his clothing for that matter) but Fenris sighed contentedly and lay his head down on his paws, assured that his father was not cross with him. Hela scooted over to the wolf and started petting his soft fur, almost absent-mindedly. Jormungandr slithered across the rug and lay his head in Loki's lap, enjoying the heat from the fireplace. Sleipnir managed to find a comfortable position close to his reptile brother. The snake flicked his tongue, but did not protest.

"I shall tell you a story I was told on Midgard. It is somewhat strange, and does certainly not include dragons, but perhaps it will appeal to you. It should be entertaining, at the very least... "Loki stated, drily. He then continued: "Many moons ago there was a rich man who lost his beloved wife. His young, beautiful daughter thereby lost her mother, and for some odd reason the man believed that one mother could easily replace another. He therefore quickly found himself another wife - a mother with two daughters. This lady he married, without bothering to first get to know her or her children properly – something that turned out to have dire consequences indeed. He then had the audacity to go and die himself, leaving his daughter with her new stepmother and step sisters – who naturally turned out to be very unpleasant people." The prince shook his head, seemingly mind-boggled by such behaviour.

"Did ssshhhhhe eat them?" Jormungandr hissed, hopefully.

"No, Jormungandr. Eating people is frowned upon on Midgard, no matter how annoying those mortals may be. I strongly suggest you keep that in mind, should you ever have a reason to visit that dismal world. Now, where was I? Ah, yes. The young woman was soon being abused by the other women, forced to wear horrid clothing, do menial tasks and sleep by the fire place-"

"I like sleeping by the fire place," Fenris interrupted. "It's so warm and it smells nice…"

"Yes, Fenris, but you are not a tiny human. Humans are delicate and cannot stand sleeping on hard surfaces, apparently." Loki replied.

"Couldn't she get a rug, or perhaps a bear skin?" Hela asked. "That way she would not be lying on a hard surface…"

"It would seem the young mortal in question did not have access to any of those things. Or perhaps she was incapable of thinking for herself. It is possible the ash from the fire place had somehow entered her brains, making her incapable of rational thought… at the very least that would explain her behavior during the next few years…" their father commented, drily. He had never understood the appeal of this particular story, but perhaps his children would.

"The young woman, whom the other women referred to as Cinderella – honestly, of all the ridiculous names they could have come up with! – was treated as a servant by the others. Not once did she attempt to escape, or complain to an outsider. Nor did any of the family's friends react to their treatment of her, oddly enough. For years she slaved for them, allowing them to insult her and dress her in rags. I suppose she may have been used to abuse before her father died. Why else would she subject herself to it?" Again, he shook his head. Hela watched him pensively.

"Maybe she did not know where to go, father." Loki's daughter suggested.

"Yes, Hela, perhaps you are correct in that assessment. In any case, her two step sisters were apparently both less than pleasant, not to mention foolish. Their only goal in life was to marry what the mortals call 'a gentleman'. The term seems to refer to the fortune of the man in question rather than any gentleness of manner. Their mother did her best to find such a gentleman for each of her daughters, but seemed unwilling to marry Cinderella off. Maybe she could not afford other servants. Her life style is supposed to have been quite extravagant…"

"Extra-what?" Sleipnir wanted to know.

"It means expensive. Doesn't it, father?" Hela asked, quietly.

"It does, daughter of mine. Fenris! Stop chewing the rug!"

Fenris looked up, a sheepish expression on his furry face. He loved chewing things. This rug was lush and blue, with a lovely, slightly musky, scent. The King had bought it on one of his travels around the realms and given it to his niece and nephews as a welcome gift. He had been very pleased that his brother had decided to stay at the castle and raise his children there, especially as his marriage to Lady Jane had not gifted them with children of their own. Fenris was really quite fond of Aunt Jane, but he wished she would not wear such delectable shoes. He always started drooling the moment he saw them, and the sudden appearance of puddles could be rather embarrassing to explain…

"Aaaaw, Fenris!" his brother Sleipnir complained, "Now the rug is all wet! Eeuuuuuugh…"

The next few moments were spent looking for rags and scolding the wolf cub – perhaps unfairly. After all, he really could not help the effectiveness of his saliva glands. Once they had all finally settled down, their father continued his tale.

"Surprisingly, one day the king of their pathetic little country invited every eligible young woman to a ball in his son's honour. Apparently he wanted the prince to find himself a wife at the festivities. With no regard for the fact that the sheer amount of young women must be enormous, or indeed for basic safety measures, he had the invitations sent out. Cinderella's step mother and sisters were most excited and immediately started preparing for the ball, as they clearly believed they would get a chance to actually impress the prince with their feminine charms. Meanwhile, the heroine of the tale despaired. She had no clothes suitable for a ball and clearly, for some reason, she found the idea of dancing with complete strangers to atrocious music pleasant. Perhaps she too was hoping to find a husband- "

"That'ssss ssstupid!" Jormungandr was not impressed.

"No, it isn't!" Hela replied, hotly. "Men are always considered better. So, if you marry an important man, others will think you are important. As though you are a part of him."

This confused Sleipnir greatly. "But Uncle Fandral always says that ladies are much better company than men…?" he protested.

"Yes, because he thinks of women as bed warmers", she answered, bitterly. "Nothing a woman does is ever considered as good or as important as what a man does. Women study and do magic, so doing that has to be a sign of weakness. And if a woman does anything else, like… fight… there is something wrong with her. And if she does not marry either, or if she is not pretty…" Her voice trailed off and an awkward silence filled the room.

"Hela…" Loki's voice was soft, loving.

"Lady Sif is marvelous," His daughter interrupted in a hard voice, turning her face away. "But I hear what they say about her. They say she is not a real woman. That a woman does not fight with swords. That there is something wrong with her, and that is why she has not married. Because nobody wants her."

Now the silence was almost as thick as the blue rug. Sleipnir stared at his sister, still confused. Jormungandr started to slither over to his tree, as his usual modus operandi - to hiss and glare at any problem he faced or bite the one whom he believed to be the cause of it – was not likely to be effective in this situation. He was not foolish enough to try to bite Hela. She was the one of them most like their father, and just like him she was capable of administering the Chilling Glare Of Doom when displeased. She was also quite adept at magic, and had been trained by Loki ever since he received custody of her. Once, on a very frightening occasion, she had actually turned her reptile brother into a rat…

Fenris tried to lighten the mood by burping loudly, and was completely ignored. He gave a little whine instead, and thumped his tail on the floor. Nobody seemed to notice that either. Loki was looking at Hela with an unreadable expression on his face. He then rose from the carpet and walked over to her, kneeling in front of her. Looking into her defiant yet vulnerable face, he gently cupped her withered cheek with his hand.

"It is never easy to be the one who does things differently, Hela. Lady Sif knew this when she made her choice to become a warrior. Nonetheless, those accusations are most unfair. She is no less of a woman for walking her own path."

"And what about me, father?" The girl's voice broke slightly, but she went on: "I am not pretty. I shall never marry. And you say that I am powerful. That I will be a very skilled magician one day. But does it matter at all? For nothing I am good at is ever going to be considered half as good as what a man does – even if he is incapable of doing magic!"

Again, silence fell. The sorcerer quietly looked at his daughter, a slight frown on his face. She feared that she had angered him, but kept looking back in any case – refusing to back down. Fenris whined again. And her father's frown seemed to soften as he put his hands on her shoulders.

"Our society is not perfect," he said, quietly. "Our lives are long, and therefore changes do not occur quickly or easily. But with each generation something is bound to change, albeit slowly. Has it ever occurred to you, my young one, that perhaps you will be a part of those changes?"

"Can we go on with the story now, father?" Sleipnir begged. This conversation made him feel somewhat edgy, as though he had done something wrong, but he could not for the life of him figure out what that would be. He had never said that women were not as good as men. On the other hand, those conundra did not often surface within the horse world. You were a horse, and apparently some horses could give birth to other horses. Or give them milk. And sometimes the one who gave birth to you turned out to not be a horse at all, which was unusual but not necessarily bad. Sleipnir did not really understand what all this fuss was about.

Loki sighed and turned to Sleipnir. "Perhaps not tonight, my little one. We are all tired. I shall continue this tale tomorrow evening instead." He ruffled the brown mane on his son's fuzzy head. Hela was still looking at her father, pain in her eyes.

"I do not want to have to change things," she whispered. "I just want to be allowed to be who I am, and respected for it." Her words hit Loki straight in the heart. He winced slightly.

"You are a wonder, an amazing being. Be proud, daughter of mine. I certainly am." He gently touched the dark bangs covering the withered side of her face. "And should some poor misguided fool show a lack of respect towards you, I trust you will let me know immediately…" he added, a slightly insane grin on his face.

"Or you could just turn him into a rat…" Jormungandr quipped from his tree. He had slithered up onto the highest limb and was now looking down at them with a mischievous grin on his green face. His sister rolled her eyes, but a slight smile was beginning to tug at her lips. Fenris nuzzled her gently with his large, wet nose. Sleipnir had somehow managed to get one of his front feet tangled up and now tripped on the rug, hurtling forwards with a frightened snort. Loki turned around at just the right moment and managed to grab him by the neck, putting his arms around his son.

"Time for bed, I think. Jormungandr, are you sleeping in your tree tonight?" he asked, looking up at the snake. Sleipnir made a huffing sound and started back for his bed, clearly getting himself ready for the challenge of climbing up on it.

"Yeessssssssss…" Jormungandr replied, securing himself by wiring his tail around the trunk of said tree and lowering his head so that he could look his father straight in the eye.

"Very well, my young one." The dark-haired prince leaned over and kissed his reptile son's angular head. "Good night."

Fenris wagged his tail. "Please tuck me in, father?" he begged, tilting his head.

"Of course. But you will need to actually be in your bed for that to work…" Loki smiled slightly. The pup replied by making a giant leap across the room, missing his bed by inches and landing on top of Sleipnir – who did not in fact enjoy the experience at all.

"Eeeheeheeeheeeeee!" he whinnied, completely taken by surprise. "Get off, get off!" Panicking, the little foal kicked with some of his legs and waved with others, managing to get tangled up in Hela's bed drapers. There was a tearing noise, and the drapers came down –covering wolf cub and eight-legged foal alike. The God of Mischief sighed. It had been a long day.

Roughly half an hour later, his offspring were all in their respective beds, or trees, neatly tucked in and getting ready for sleep. Well, Jormungandr had no use for duvets or blankets. Tucking him in basically meant making certain that he had secured his tail properly around the tree trunk, so that he would not fall down if he happened to have one of his more vivid dreams. But all of Loki's children were quite content, having been kissed good night and/ or had their fur lovingly ruffled. Any damage caused to the furnishings by the earlier little… incident… had been magically repaired. With a yawn, Loki - the God of Mischief, Chaos and Various Shenanigans – slipped across the hallway in the large, quiet castle of Asgard, opened the door to his private chambers and entered. His bed called for him in a very loud voice. A voice he did not, in fact, associate with his bed at all…

"Fandral?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Paternal Traditions part 2**

 **A/N: This is an edited version of a story I posted on deviantart. Personally, I think this version is loads better. As before, all mistakes are mine!:)**

"What can I do for you, Lord Fandral? I take it there is a very good reason why you are in my chambers, not to mention my bed, without my consent?" Loki's voice practically dripped with sarcasm.

The blond warrior smiled slightly in response. Fandral was a beautiful man, with his thick, golden hair and bright, mischievous eyes. He was also a most annoying one, in Loki's opinion. After all, a man who manages to court – and bed – three noble ladies of rivaling worlds at the same time, without causing a diplomatic incident, is rather irritating. One feels he should pay for his good fortune in some way. Loki had made him pay, of course, in his own way. But nobody knew that the prince had something to do with the fact that one lady after the other had what a Midgardian would call a "hissy fit", and broke all contact with her lover.

If Fandral guessed who had caused the horse dung to hit the wind mill, so to speak, he had not given any hints so far. That, of course, did not necessarily mean that he had not figured it out. Fandral was many things, but he was neither stupid nor unobservant – and the prince had by now come to the conclusion that the man was not as superficial as he often seemed, either. This made him even more annoying.

Loki sighed. What had he done to deserve this intrusion? Of course, he told himself, Fandral was nowhere near as much of a buffoon as Volstagg – and thus the former's presence was at least acceptable in comparison.

"Your Majesty… " Fandral rose from the large bed on which he had been sitting, slowly approaching him. Loki stared at the man, frowning slightly. Puzzled, he watched as the blond swordsman stopped mere inches in front of him, invading his personal space. The warrior then bowed slowly, peering up at the prince with a playful smirk. He took Loki's right hand in his, and planted a kiss on it. For a moment Loki just stared at him, face completely blank.

"Welll… " he finally uttered, his voice cold and dry. "This is somewhat unexpected. Am I to take it you have now managed to lay with every female in the castle, not counting the children and the horses, and are desperate for something new? For if that be the case I must, regretfully, tell you that I would rather share my bed with a bilgesnipe than with you."

Fandral grinned, clutching his left hand dramatically to his chest.

"Such coldness, my icy prince. Is there, in fact, blood running through those lovely veins of yours? Or are they filled with ice water?"

Loki rolled his eyes. This was not the first time he had been accused of being cold blooded, hints as to his frost giant heritage notwithstanding. Fandral's face grew serious, his voice no longer holding the playful quality from before.

"Joking aside, Prince Loki, I have come to ask for your assistance concerning a serious matter."

"Oh?" The sorcerer prince quirked an eyebrow. "It must indeed be serious for you to seek _my_ help."

"Indeed it is, Your Majesty. I am turning to you as one father to another." This caught Loki's attention.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but have you not always claimed that you have no children? As I remember, you would get rather… inventive as to the reasons why you could not possibly be the father of any child conceived by your female… acquaintances?"

"This one is different, Your Majesty." Fandral actually blushed slightly. "If I do not claim this child as my daughter, she will be sent away - to live on Midgard. Can you imagine a worse fate, My Prince?"

Loki considered this for a moment. Midgard was a ridiculous place, with even more ridiculous mortals. There were… exceptions to that rule, naturally. He would not claim that his brother's friends, those Avengers, were exactly ridiculous – for what would that make him, who had been beaten by them in combat? A small, self-ironic smile pulled on his lips. No, not ridiculous. All things considered, they were not too bad. As for the rest of humanity, however…

"That would be most unfortunate for the child in question. I take it there is a reason for this… unfortunate turn of events?"

Fandral looked at the floor for a moment, and then met his gaze steadily.

"I am afraid I am, at least partly, to blame for this. The girl's mother is, as it turns out, of Midgard descent. During our… association, I did not in fact realize this was the case."

"And as the child's father has not claimed her, only her mother's heritage is considered – thus making her a Midgardian under Asgard law," Loki stated. Quirking an eyebrow, he added: "It is quite clear what you have to do in order to rectify this situation, is it not?"

Thor's shield brother gave a deep sigh.

"Yes, Your Majesty. Unfortunately I was, at the time of the girl's conception, part of another… arrangement with another lady. Lady Inghild. It would not be... advantageous if she were to find out about my... indescretion."

"You were, in fact, cheating on your lady-friend with this child's mother. How unusual for you." The prince's tone was less than sympathetic. It was also just a tad amused. Fandral actually looked a little sheepish. How much of it was play-acting, Loki wondered. The blond had, on more than one occasion, proved to be an excellent actor. It was another thing about him that annoyed Loki, possibly because it reminded him of himself.

"It was a foolish mistake, my prince. But I have reason to believe that that woman may have used magic so as to tempt me, not to mention hiding her true identity and her heritage. Otherwise I would have noticed that she-"

"Very few Midgardians possess the ability to use magic, Lord Fandral," Loki interrupted, rolling his eyes. "Did she show any sign of having such talents?"

Now the good Lord looked very embarrassed, indeed. Loki was enjoying this immensely. He did not often get to watch this suave ladies-man cringe, and thus cherished the experience. Midgardians were not exactly well-liked on Asgard, and if any were found they would usually be sent back to their homeworld. Lady Jane was an exception, as she was the Consort of the King, but even so she would never be a True Queen of Asgard. She could never become the All-Mother, partly due to her lack of magical talent but mostly due to her heritage. Had she been of another realm than Midgard, her lack of talent could have been helped, the powers of the All-Mother given to her. It would have been a difficult and painful process, but it would have been possible . As she was of Midgard, however, nobody would even suggest such a thing. Who ever heard of a Midgardian All-Mother?! It was a pity, really. While Loki could not be said to exactly like Midgardians, he did in fact like Jane. She was surprisingly wise for a person so... young. Also, the sorcerer prince had had ample opportunities to appreciate the calming influence she had on his brother.

Loki sighed. He was often asked to help with problems as a last resort, and those asking him usually expected him to just make all difficulties vanish. They quite often had no inkling whatsoever as to how magic worked, or when using magic was not a good idea.

"Perhaps you expected me to magically make your problems disappear? Perhaps… oh, I don't know, perhaps you were under the impression that I could suddenly turn the child's mother into an Asgardian, so that the girl could stay?" the prince suggested, his voice deceptively mild. "Or you into the kind of man that would be willing to step forward and take responsibility, in order to save your child from exile?"

At this rebuke, the swordsman squared his shoulders and narrowed his eyes at Loki. It was probably intended to make him look both dignified and offended. It failed. After all, not taking responsibility for ones actions, thus allowing a woman or a child to suffer, was incredibly … dishonorable, and there was no way that Fandral did not realise this. If there was one thing that all the Warriors Three valued, it was honor. Now it was Loki's turn to smirk, but only on the inside. How many times had the mighty Lord Fandral managed to sneak away from his responsibilities, leaving erstwhile lovers in a difficult situation? How many times had he succeeded in somehow getting away with it, without being accused of dishonorable behavior? And how many unclaimed sons and daughters did he in fact have? For some reason this bothered Loki in a way it never had before. In his mind's eye he saw Hela's sad face, and he heard her voice: _Men are always considered better. So, if you marry an important man, others will think you are important. As though you are a part of him_. The same went for fathers and children, did it not? If the father was a prominent member of society, the child would be seen as an important individual. If the father was unknown, on the other hand… Loki allowed his face to become completely blank.

"Unless you choose to claim your daughter, you will simply have to accept the fact that she will grow up on Midgard." He gave a little shrug and continued, sounding thoughtful: "It may not be too horrible. After all, her mother will no doubt be alive for a few more years, after which the child will quite possibly be old enough to fend for herself..." He looked up at the ceiling, as though contemplating this, and then frowned. "You may want to ascertain that the child has access to Asgardian health care, as I hear there are many intriguing diseases on that world…" His voice slowly trailed off. There was silence for a few moments as the blond warrior considered the repercussions of what his prince had just said. Loki managed not to grin as he waited for Fandral's reaction.

"Your Majesty, I thank you for your advice and your time." The noble Lord Fandral knelt on the floor in a quick motion, and then rose just slowly enough to be polite and proper in the presence of a prince. His shoulders were stiff, and his teeth tightly clenched. So tightly, in fact, as to make the dark- haired prince's head ache slightly in sympathy. He could not, however, resist one final chance to mess with the man.

"Should you need a sympathetic ear, might I suggest that you turn to my brother?" Loki suggested, all innocence. "I am certain he would be more than happy to advice you on important matters such as these. And the two of you have always been good friends…"

Fandral paled.

"Now I bid you a good night, Lord Fandral. May the … situation be solved to your satisfaction."

Fandral respondend with a polite bow, wished his prince a good night, and left as quickly as he could without being rude or losing too much of his dignity.

Loki grinned. Alas, Fandral would want to stop this particular piece of news from reaching the King… Loki could well imagine the latter's reaction if he were to find out about his friend's behaviour. Perhaps the swordsman would even decide that having a daughter, even one of Midgard descent, was not such a horrible thing. Chuckling quietly, the prince walked over to his bed. Then he stopped. The thought of his own daughter, his Hela, made his grin fade. The look in her eyes earlier that evening… Midgard was not the perfect environment for raising a child, but was Asgard really any better?

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. As he opened it, a scowl on his face, a pair of large, frightened wolf eyes met his. "Father, may I stay with you? There's a monster in the closet!"

"I am certain it is only Jormungandr playing his little games, Fenris. Regardless of which, you are a mighty wolf. Should the monsters not fear you instead of the other way around?"

Apparently, this had not occurred to his furry son, who now bore the resemblance of a large sheep rather than a wolf. His father sighed to himself. Monsters were only the last in a long line of things that frightened Fenris. On top of the list was, surprisingly enough, cauliflower. The mere sight or smell of said large, white vegetable would make the cub run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Baths, on the other hand, seemed to appeal to him. Especially if they were scented. Loki's son was not keen on dirt or mud, and whined loudly if he had his thick fur coated with it after falling into a puddle or playing in a ditch with Jormungandr.

The mighty prince of Asgard put aside all philosophical conundra for the night, picked up his large lupine son – who gave a small bark and then sighed with contentment - and used a small burst of magic to close the door, as his arms were very full at the moment. It was a good thing that his bed was so big. If he knew his children, they would soon all want to join Fenris, and Loki was far too tired to bother being irritated about it. He wondered if the three green pillows already on the bed would be enough, and how many blankets he should conjure up…


End file.
